bitter|sweet.

My sister recommended a book a few years back, Every Bitter Thing is Sweet by Sara Hagerty. In short, every sad, broken, sorrowful thing that happens to us has a sweet side–it has a side that shows us Jesus.

I found myself thinking about this all week. While every bitter thing IS sweet (and would recommend the book!), I kind of think the opposite is true, too: every sweet thing is bitter.

This very well might be the pessimist’s mantra. Please don’t hate me for being a pessimist. But consider: sometimes I think we as Westerners want so many things to only be sweet–we want to ignore the bitter. We want to buy the clothes without thinking of who made them; we want to eat the food without thinking of who isn’t able to do that; we want to post the perfect picture without acknowledging the story behind it.

Which, wanting to be optimistic isn’t horrible, but I do think it can lead us to a denial of the world we live in.

It’s broken.

The Bible writes it on every page: sin is here, and it’s bitter. And yet Jesus is here, too, and he’s sweet. I think we need to be willing to swallow them both down together.

_______________________

As we returned this week to our community, it was sweet to be back in our home, surrounded by our friends, and chatting about life. Chatting in a language we have invested so many hours in, but are now communicating. Surrounded by friends that we have invested so many years in, but are now friends. Living in a place that felt uncomfortable in so many ways, but now feels comfortable. It was sweet.

But it was also a bitter, bitter week.

We landed in Bangkok, hoping to see Musana. We learned that her grandmother & cousin, Zen Yaw, were on their way to Bangkok. We delayed seeing her to the last day we were in the city, hoping to catch them all. He arrived the very next morning after we left. And now he’s not here, running up to our door. I don’t know if I can really put it into words, but it is a deep, real loss to the community. Like Musana, he had a sticker on him, as God’s good gift to us–in smiles and laughter and the best hugs; watching the washer wash; singing Hallelujah. Gosh, those two kids were huge gifts to us.

And now, they are really long way away, and it’s bitter.

It’s sweet, too: God gave us the incredible, incredible miraculous gift of knowing where they are. We can call them; we can visit them. I cannot over-exclaim the complete and utter miracle it is that we know where they live and have found them, three times now, outside of Bangkok. This is a great gift to us. They are healthy and gaining weight; they are in concrete homes with running water. Their families are together.

And I know God is good: maybe he knows that Zen Yaw was my little guy, and us adopting a little babe would have been hard on him. Even our leaving for a weekend or going to church without him was really difficult for him. So perhaps this is bittersweet for all of us.

We also learned of other families that left while we were gone. Two families we knew really well have gone back to Burma, and we likely won’t see them again. That’s really hard to adjust to, in a way I can’t describe.

And Daw Ma Oo, the sweet woman who sells flowers with Flour & Flowers, was gone when we returned. She was just recently diagnosed with uterine cancer and went to Yangon for surgery. We hear she’ll back in six months or eight; when she’s well…no one seems to know. Her husband & sons are here; the whole community is pretty closely connected to her and hurting. It’s terrifying, and we all know it.

Honestly? Cancer is often diagnosed late here, and usually little can be done. Most people we know lose family members within months of diagnosis. It’s bitter to swallow.

Another young girl–just a teenager–was sick with what we guessed was cancer when we left. We had been to the clinic a few times with her, and it was a sticky situation to say the least. Her mother refused to seek help from an organization to pay for her daughter’s treatment. She left the hospital, and it’s continued to worsen. She passed away Friday and we had the funeral on Saturday.

We learned of one family that attends church with us was kicked off their land, so they now live with another family–10 people in a small, shambled hut. It’s bitter.

But we gave them seeds before we left, and they have a beautiful garden going. They are proud of it, and it was a great investment of our $2. I’m thrilled they can see the fruit of their labor. I’m thrilled they are eating the fruit! It’s sweet.

I don’t even have the words really for the incredible sweetness and the incredible bitterness this week has held. Instead, I just keep thinking of both sides: Every bitter thing is sweet. Every sweet thing is bitter.

And then there will be heaven.